


Shooting Stars

by Azaisya



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Arguments, Gen, Unreliable Narrator, mentions of the Celebrían disaster, sibling relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 17:19:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13345881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azaisya/pseuds/Azaisya
Summary: Arwen grieved like her father, quietly and sorrowfully. The twins grieved like their mother, deeply and explosively. They wore their hearts on their sleeves, and they’d never made secret their emotions before. Their grief made them sharp and soft andhurt.Arwen’s made her stone. Their differences would be their doom.





	Shooting Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I love the twins and Arwen, and I've wanted to write them for ages. So of course I decided to start with their parting. 
> 
> TW: There is a mention of rape. Also canon-typical violence. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing of JRR Tolkien's works or characters.

Celebrían’s passing was inevitable, after her injuries. Elrond had tried everything he could to heal her, to hold her, to keep her, but she was already too far gone. She’d given too much of herself away; there was nothing left for her family to hold onto. And so Glorfindel, Erestor, and a small band of elves accompanied her to the Havens while her children and her husband were left to pick up the pieces.

The whole Valley seemed to fall under a shadow, and not a single song or peal of laughter was heard in the dark months following her departure. Elrond fell ill almost as soon as she left, growing too weak to even leave his bed. Lindir abandoned his usual duties to attend to his lord, and nobody was left to watch Celebrían’s suddenly motherless children.

Arwen grieved like her father, quietly and sorrowfully. But she had her mother’s drive, and so she didn’t spend her days languishing in silence. She stepped up to fill the role her mother’s absence left, a flickering candle attempting to fill the void left by an inferno.

But the twins. . . . The twins grieved like their mother, deeply and explosively. They wore their hearts on their sleeves, and they’d never made secret their emotions before. Their grief made them sharp and soft and _hurt_.

Arwen’s made her stone. Their differences would be their doom.

Emerging from her father’s sickroom, Arwen quietly shut the door. There had been no change in her father’s state, although she thought that he was stable now.

At least, he hadn’t gotten any worse.

She turned and found herself face to face with her elder brothers, their faces drawn and their boots covered in mud. She frowned at them, suddenly worried. They looked pale and sickly, nearly like Elrond himself, and it scared her. She could survive losing her mother. She might even survive losing her father. But her brothers?

Elladan and Elrohir had always been a part of Arwen’s life, twin forces of indomitable energy that bounced back as soon as they fell. To see them so low almost physically hurt her. “Where have you been?” she asked, concerned.

They stared at her, and she was taken aback by the hostility in their eyes. Elladan quietly asked, “How’s _Ada_?”

“El,” she said, gentling her voice to hide her alarm, “where have you been?”

Elrohir’s expression shuttered. “It doesn’t matter. We want to see him.”

Arwen planted herself squarely before her father’s door, eyes narrowing. The twins weren’t deceitful; they never had been liars, and they never would be. “Elladan. Elrohir.”

Elrohir’s expression flamed and he took a step forwards. “Let us in, Arwen!”

A chill ran down Arwen’s spine as she spotted the blades that hung at the twins’ sides. Very few wore blades in Imladris, and certainly nobody wore blades that still carried traces of black orc blood. Voice suddenly hard, she demanded, “Have you been hunting _orcs_?”

Elladan’s expression crumpled but Elrohir merely raised his chin. “What if we have?”

Horror — strong enough to send her back a step — coursed through Arwen’s frame and her words were sharper than intended. “Are you fools? _Naneth_ hasn’t even reached the shore and you’re already hunting those foul creatures?”

Perhaps if the twins had been hurting less, perhaps if Arwen had been gentler, things might not have escalated. But the twins had been hunting orcs in secret for days and Arwen had not left her father’s bedside for food or rest and all three were still aching from their mother’s loss.

Elladan immediately leaped to his twin’s defense, snarling, “What else would you have us do, Arwen? Sit and cry in Imladris as you do?”

Arwen’s entire countenance frosted over. “I would rather you do that than heedlessly hunt orcs.”

“At least we’re doing something!” Elladan retorted, “We weren’t able to save _Nana_ , and so we’ll seek vengeance instead.”

Arwen crossed her arms and tilted her head. “The orcs that attacked her are dead already, El.” Glorfindel had seen to that, riding into the night with a party as soon as the twins brought their mother’s battered body home.

“We don’t know for sure,” Elladan mumbled, dropping his head.

Seizing upon his moment of doubt, Arwen added, “And _Nana_ wouldn’t want you to waste your spirits on a quest for vengeance. She’d want you home, and safe.”

Voice quiet, Elrohir asked, “How would you know? You weren’t there.” He looked up, and his grey eyes were blazing with a fire that she’d never seen before. “You didn’t see them. You didn’t see her! They had her tied up like a sow waiting to be bled.”

Arwen’s face went white, but she didn’t relent. She’d exhausted herself in the past days, and suddenly she found her brothers’ words — and their actions — sickening. How could they do this? How could they ride out and spill blood in their mother’s name?

Celebrían’s heart had been pure. She’d never learned to fight, never wanted to spill blood, never condoned violence. She would have been horrified to see the violence her own sons had wrought.

Arwen was _tired_. She was so very tired. Her exhaustion was palpable, dragging her down and threatening to drown her. She could hardly bear the sight of her father, catatonic and struggling, and couldn’t bring herself to look at her brothers, as twisted with grief and anger as they were.

Elladan’s eyes, too, were filled with that fey fire. “You don’t understand, Arwen! They did _horrible_ things to her.”

Voice trembling slightly, she admitted, “Maybe I don’t understand. But she wouldn’t want this.”

Expression cruel, Elrohir snapped, “She didn’t _want_ to be raped, either.”

Elladan didn’t move. “You’re just scared, Arwen. You hide in Imladris where it's safe and pretend that everything is fine. Do you even care that she’s gone?”

Eyes wide, Arwen took another step back. “Of course I care! I love her just as much as you did!”

“Then why aren’t you hunting with us?” Elrohir demanded.

Arwen stared at him. She didn’t recognize him. She didn’t recognize the twisted creatures that stood before her.

"See?" Elrohir said, lips curling into a sneer, "You can't understand."

“Maybe you should leave,” Elladan said, abruptly.

She turned to him and stared as if through a dream. “Maybe I should.” They shouldered past her to get to Elrond’s room, and Arwen merely stood.

Maybe she _should_ leave. Imladris had become strange to her; she couldn’t go anywhere without seeing the ghost of her mother. Her brothers had made it clear that she was not wanted, and she didn't think she could stand the sight of her father without her mother's ever present smile. It was tearing her apart, and she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to heal.

Not here, with the creatures that wore her brothers’ faces and the empty shell that was her father.

Decisively, Arwen turned and strode down the hallway towards her quarters. Lothlórien, she decided, had always been like a second home to her.

Perhaps it would be enough to heal her.

[] [] []

 _ada/adar_ = daddy/father

 _nana/naneth_ = mommy/mother


End file.
